In 31 days, my plane lifts off for Madrid. I've been preparing for so
long, and now I continue preparations, and I confront what I cannot prepare for
. . .
This morning as I prepared to jump in the shower, I decided, " I'll try my new micro-fiber, quick dry towel." I will be taking it to Spain with me. I bought it because it packs small, unfolds to a large size, and supposedly will dry overnight. Well, using it was an odd experience. It did not feel like my normal fluffy cotton towel. It did not move over my skin easily. I had to blot and blot. It rolled up on itself, and I had to unfurl it repeatedly until I got the hang of "blot and move, blot and move". In the end, it did, as advertised, dry me very thoroughly. Indeed, the new towel dried me more thoroughly it seems than my normal towels, or maybe I changed my actions because of the towel. It is hanging up now, and I'll see if it is ready for reuse in 8 hours. That's the sort of preparation I can do. Tonight I'll try washing my quick dry underwear, convertible pants and shirt in the sink with my Magellan's laundry soap sheets (they come in a container about the size of a pack of dental floss). Will the soap work? How many of those little sheets will it take? Will the clothes dry overnight?
These sorts of things I can "test" and prepare ahead. Other sorts of things . . .well there is just no way to prepare. I walked this weekend, and felt tired after just 5 miles. My first day in Spain is 14 miles. The second day is a bit less than 14 miles. The third day is 20 miles. I cannot prepare for that physical exertion. At best, I have walked significant miles both Saturday and Sunday. Monday, finds me back at the desk.
I have fears about my physical abilities. I have fears about language problems. I have fears about a 500 mile walk in a foreign country--will I make it? Will something happen? I have been this peregrino person for 3 years now, told everybody, bragged sort of . . . what will happen if I don't live up to that image?
Thus, I covet the prayers of those who follow me on this walk. As I told one of my cousins who sent me a prayer to take along, a most intimate sort of prayer . . .
On
a day, sometime in May or June, I’ll have arisen at 6:00, repacked, filled the
water bottle, and headed out into the bird-chirping light. After 5-8
miles and 2 – 3 hours of quiet walking through the Spanish morning, we’ll stop,
sweaty, in need of food and drink. We’ll sit and share our bread, fruit,
and cheese. Then we’ll start our devotions (see an earlier post).
I’ll reach into my pack, pull out a prayer, and find a moment of intimacy with someone who I know
and love, but is far away. A moment of prayer, a picture to take and post
later in the day marking the spot where a burden was laid down, a joy firmly planted, or dream put in as seed to grow, and I'll smile enough to keep me moving for the next 5 hours of
walking.
I
can’t tell you how I look forward to sharing those moments. God has called folk to walk the trails I'll walk for a thousand years. God has something for me on this pilgrimage . . . and I may already be carrying it by the time I leave.
God's messenger angels in the Bible always announce their fearsome presence by shouting, singing, saying, "Fear not". The latest Pope said that "Fear not" is the fundamental Christian gospel message.
"Fear not"
Well, I'm glad the towel worked, at least I got that going for me, eh?
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